Fixe was first and foremost a café when it opened a year and a half ago. That vocation remains: The simple room is still dominated by a gleaming La Marzocco espresso machine and features a cycling roster of beans from artisanal roasters Detour, out of Dundas, Ont. During the day, it has been a place to set up with the computer and get some work done — my laptop and I have hung out here on a couple of occasions.

Recently, the focus has been shifting toward sit-down meals, reflecting in part the changing sensibilities of the area. The future feels wide open on this particular stretch of St-Hubert, south of the roof-topped shopping area known as the Plaza. Around Fixe, there’s a rattan emporium with furniture stock that must be from the ’70s (and waiting for a comeback), an art gallery, a martial arts school and a few restaurants with varying degrees of appeal.

At the bottom of the street, there’s a building boom, as the final phase of a massive mixed-housing condo development is nearing completion and a new library is being constructed.

While the menu initially aligned itself with vegan and raw food precepts, that approach wasn’t pulling in the patrons, says owner Philippe Beaudin, a bike courier-turned-barista who co-owns the place with his brother, Nicolas. So their “comptoir santé” has, in the last couple of months, become a “café-bistro.” In the kitchen, Pascal Cormier, who has worked at Le Mitoyen, Decca 77 and Leméac, is taking the chance to experiment. In addition to brunches, his weekly menu is offered at lunch and in the evening Thursday through Saturday.

Visiting the last week of March, I was intrigued by the unusual yet approachable supper lineup. There was a sense of the season on the table, suitable for a city that wasn’t quite out from under the snow. A complimentary starter — sliced house-cured duck breast with a sunny-side-up quail’s egg and grain mustard — gave us something luscious and fatty to unwind with as we settled in.

The most striking appetizer sounded the strangest: frog soup. The potage was a gorgeous green, super-smooth purée of watercress, with delicate strands of pale frog meat and morsels of tomato floating in it like lily pads. The muted peppery tang of the aquatic leaves, the fine consistency and the storybook colour were a delight to spoon up, like an amphibian habitat in a bowl (in the best way).

Next was a salad that had a hard-boiled egg set on end in a curly crown of chicory and chopped green beans. The curveball was a scattering of cod liver (nothing like the oil capsules you may have been forced to swallow as a child, the cooked version looks not unlike chunk tuna), the whole milder tasting than the individual components suggested.

A third appetizer was heavier and nicely weighted, with a thick clump of hummus, stubs of hot, paprika-hued chorizo and slow-cooked pepperonata with its bell pepper sweetness. A smart combo of musky notes and hits of heat, it seemed designed for a different personality type than the other two.

For mains, we were treated to the first scallops of the season from Îles de la Madeleine. Amazingly sweet, roasted for a delicate crusting on the ends, they proved again to be marshmallows of the sea. They were strewn with microgreens and swimming in a creamy sauce described as parmentier and that contained salsify in addition to the potato. This dish was a little oddly proportioned with no veg to break it up, but I appreciated how it developed over time, the sauce adhering more thickly to the bites of seafood as it cooled.

A bowl of moules marinière, mussels gorged in a light herbed broth punctuated by the sharpness of fresh parsley, was warming and totally hit the spot. Veal loin ($4 surcharge) topped with a layer of parsley in oil, akin to chimichurri without the kick, came accompanied by some deliciously rich mashed potatoes. Here the place and its plates were at odds — we could have used a steak knife for the rare meat. Instead, the pink mass looked like we’d attacked it.

Mains were made up of just one or two elements, plenty for me, but some folks might wish for more sides.

Things ended with a lovely crème brûlée, the thin, glossed surface cracking finely under the spoon, and a round of warm, fluffy and moist date cake, really a comforting and sticky toffee pudding whose speculus seasonings reminded us of both Passover and Christmas.

In fact, we’d had a few components of the Jewish holiday feast: the egg, the bitter herbs and now the fruit, my friends pointed out.

Fixe is a fun neighbourhood find, with a finer sensibility than you might expect walking in. (Although, I’d suggest reserving here as there aren’t a lot of tables; same goes for brunch, with cereal milk, decadent brioche and low and slow scrambled eggs.)

Cormier is an inventive cook with a gentle style. Beaudin oversees the personalized service and the wine list, mostly natural and Spanish wines at the softer end of the price range.

Supper wrapped too late for a coffee, but I rested easy knowing I could always come back for my fix in the morning. Which, incidentally, I did.